


Suck My Left One

by ninhursag



Series: Bikini Kill [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Always a girl Leonard Snart, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Health Issues, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 18:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18103718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: Mick Rory meets (always a girl) Leora Snart in the adolescent ward of the state hospital. It's the start of something... neither of them are sure what.Because there always need to be more always a girl stuff.





	Suck My Left One

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: verbal and physical cruelty, nasty sex, underaged sex, onscreen consent issues (not between the main pairing) and child abuse

They meet for the first time in the adolescent ward of the state hospital. Suicide and homicide attempts. Trauma victims with shit insurance. Foster kids with no place else to be. Pyromaniacs who lit up their parents’ house and kleptos who are a little too fucked up for juvie. Kids who can’t stop screaming about Jesus. Let the healing begin.

Mick spots her in group, looking like the weird girl in the breakfast club. Dark hair, curly, covering her eyes. Thin wrists. She's wearing hospital scrubs that are too big so the wrists and face and hands are all the skin you can see.

“Can you introduce yourself?” the facilitator asks her. “We start with our names and then ask you to name a feeling you’re experiencing right now. And one goal you’d like to work on today.” 

“Leora Snart.” She glares from under her bangs. Her eyes are blue. Intense. “Is fuck you a feeling? It’s sure as fuck not a goal I want to work on.”

The facilitator sighs, all long suffering. “Very original. Welcome to the group, Ms. Snart.”

Leora Snart. Stupid name. There’s something in the eyes though. Her face too, pretty, but too sharp. 

 

**

Mick sits next to her, later, during a fresh air break, and not because of her face. And not to scare off Bryan, an asshole of near eighteen who goes right for the dazed suicide survivors like they’re chum in the water and was making a bee line like he thinks this is going to be his next one. 

It’s because they don’t let him have cigarettes, but she has one. He stares at the match in her long, skinny fingers. “Can I have your cigarette?” he asks, hungry like. She follows his gaze.

“Aww, you burning for a little nicotine?” she asks, sniggering to herself and either unknowing or uncaring about his intervention with Bryan the creep. “Or just for something to burn? You’re the pyro freak from group, right?”

He narrows his eyes. “Yeah, I’m a pyro freak. What about you? Some cutting, a little cry for help? Daddy touched you under the blankets at night?”

She doesn’t flinch at all so that didn’t hit. Instead she smirks and blows a long puff of smoke, lights another match and lets it burn down just out of his reach. “Maybe he did. Maybe I climbed in and touched him first. Maybe. I. Liked. It.” He glares. She blows the match out and smiles a little harder. He could take it from her, easy, but he’ll get jumped by an orderly if he tries.

He tries again. “Whatever. Suicide attempt, right? Anyway, what do you want for it? I don’t need a cigarette, I’ll take a match.”

She rolls her eyes. “Nothing you’ve got.” Then she shrugs and hands him one anyway. Her wrists peek out from the sleeve. A hint of forearm. There’s a line of blue, probably a tattoo hidden under a sleeve. The red line across one visible wrist, where a knife went in deep, still angry and healing. “Just don’t set anything on fire until after I leave.”

“Sure,” he mutters. He does wait until she walks away, no backward glances. 

**  
He’s more than a little surprised when she’s the one who sits down next to him in the cafeteria. “Mick Rory, right?”

He shrugs. “It’s better than pyro freak. Yeah, I’m Mick.” 

“I’m Leora Snart. It’s better than did daddy touch you under the blankets at night. How long have you been here?” 

“Two months,” he mutters, annoyed. “Juvie is better, they have to let you out when your sentence is over.”

Her eyes narrow. “Two months-is that- how long are people usually here? I can’t be here for two months.”

“Well then you better start blowing the shrinks because some of these losers are here until they’re eighteen or cured, whichever happens first.”

A curl of distaste twists her mouth. “Nah. That options just… blows, man.” She grins like she’d said something funny and he rolls his eyes. “I got places to be.”

He shrugs. “Well, you can't rush job your healing process, Snart.”

“I can’t believe this,” she continues, ignoring him. “Why the hell am I even here?”

“Um, you tried to kill yourself, didn’t you?” She hadn’t denied it when he’d suggested it, and there was the cut up wrist. It seemed to fit.

She glares at him and denies it this time. “I did not. I told them that’s not what happened. I would never do that, I have--” 

“Yeah, yeah, places to be, you miscalculated how deep you cut. Daddy made you too sad.” 

There is pure loathing in her face. “You mean, like you miscalculated the burn rate when you burned your family alive?”

He stops. Just stops. Stands up. Her face goes white immediately. Hate faded to horror. Hand over her mouth like she was trying to pull the words back. “Fuck you bitch,” he whispers. She flinches.

“I didn't… I… Rory. Mick.” She winces again when he moves closer and then holds still. He gets up and walks away.

**  
“I'm sorry.” There's a voice at midnight where there shouldn't be. “Mick. I shouldn't have said that to you.”

He blinks in the semi dark. It's between bed checks and his roommate is snoring. Snart is standing by the edge of his bed. Her eyes look dark and huge.

“You should be asleep,” he hisses. “Me too.”

“Ok.” Soft. A whisper. Then a rustle and something cool and heavy dropped into his hand. A lighter. His eyes widen. “I'm sorry.” She repeats.

He nods. Flicks the lighter on. Feels good in his hand. Her face is softer in the light of it.

“Thanks,” he says. “This is… thanks.”

She smiles then. “I'm leaving tomorrow night. Security here is a joke. Want to come?”

Of course he says yes. If he stays they'd find it and take it away.

 

**

The first time they fuck is frantic. They're newly escaped from the hospital, thumbing a ride on a off ramp. She's layered under a sweater she stole from a nurse who could have made three of her and a pair of jeans that barely buttons, but she pulls her hair back and her face speaks for her. Pretty, pretty, clear skin, blue eyes and a soft seeming mouth that actually isn't.

Mick hangs back and lets her work.

A trucker stops and gives her the once over. Mick doesn't like the fucker's face. Son of a bitch looks greedy. 

“I'll take you, but not your boyfriend.”

Snart smiles. Like she smiles at the shrink in the group home but with some more teeth. Her voice is low, breathy. “He's not my boyfriend, he’s my idiot brother. You'll never know he's there.”

The trucker frowns and peers at Mick, who does his best to make an idiot face and climbs into the back when he’s allowed to. She turns around, puts her finger to her lips and fucking winks at him like this is hilarious.

Mick settles in the back and watches her fake the guy out. Bold and shy and smiling a little.

They trucker tries to get her to blow him on the side of the road. For a moment she looks small again, buried in the too big sweater, hair in her eyes. Mick hunkers down and considers his options.

“Better be nice, girly,” the guy whispers like an afterschool special about bad touch. Snart rolls her eyes from over his shoulder.

Mick raises his own eyebrows and she returns a single head shake like a whispered 'i got this’.

He still almost moves to do something when creepy gets her on her knees but then there's this high pitched scream and it's not coming from Snart. The trucker wails and grabs his balls and is that blood?

And Leora Snart clambers up and licks something off her lower lip like she's proud of herself.

“You bit his dick,” Mick says out loud, over the screaming, like he's trying to confirm the facts. “Did you… bite it off?”

She rolls her eyes. “I don't have that kind of jaw strength.” She goes back to the trucker and kicks him in the head. Mick steps over to give a good kick himself. The boots he's wearing are pretty solid and it only takes a few hits until trucker crumbles. Maybe passed out. Maybe worse. Mick's not losing any sleep.

Snart doesn't seem to be either. She turns back to Mick, dangling the keys in her hand. “Shall we, um blow this place more figuratively?”

“Yeah sure.”

They only go to the next town over, dumping the truck by a deserted warehouse. The windows of the building are mostly shot out, vacant and busted. She climbs on Mick's lap in the truck cab before they abandon it.

Her mouth tastes like blood when she kisses him. Her hands on his collar are stronger than they should be.

“Are you going to bite my dick?” Not that he probably isn't going to go for this anyway.

“Are you going to shove it in my mouth without asking first?” she's smiling.

“Not after that demonstration,” he says emphatically.

“Then no biting required.”

Her sweater is cheap, scratchy, under his hands. Her mouth is smiling. She fumbles in her pocket for a condom package, no clue where she got it but he's not saying no when she unzips his fly and fits it on him. Her fingers are cold and shaking. Cold enough to keep him from losing it with her palm against his balls.

He reaches out to kiss her again, pull her close. Soft hair under his fingertips. She frowns, but kisses back. Hard with teeth. Warmer now.

Pretty blue eyes. Pretty face. Nothing soft but that hair.

She rides him hard, like that. Climbs on his dick like it's nothing. Open and shaking and slippery, so much he can't figure out how she keeps the rhythm but she does. Her jeans barely shoved down, ridiculously tight on her thighs. His fly unbuttoned. That stupid hideous sweater covering her to her fingertips. He digs his hands into her bare hips, the only place he can touch skin, and she laughs into his mouth.

He comes too fast and she laughs again, but surprisingly not mean even though he knows she's not done. Just collapses into the seat next to him and finishes herself off with her fingers while he watches, thin and fast, rough with herself. Eager. Next time he's going to be the one to make her come.

She lets him light the truck on fire before they go, which is actually not better than the sex but pretty close.

**

She lifted more than condoms from the trucker. There's enough cash for a motel room off the road and bus tickets in the morning. He picks up 7-11 hotdogs and she grins and makes hers disappear.

She rinses that goddamned sweater in the bathroom sink. “Got blood on it,” she mutters.

She's got on a long sleeved shirt underneath.. Hospital issue, so thin. Wet on the sleeves now, clinging to her skin. He leans in from behind and kisses her impulsively, on the shoulder. Cloth not skin. She half smiles, meets his eyes in the mirror, head tilted up.

That's how he spots the first scar on her bare throat. A thin line, like from a knife. Almost invisible in most light. He touches it carefully with a fingertip. 

She flinches from the touch like she didn’t just have his dick in her a few hours goes ago. “Fuck you, don’t touch me like that,” she hisses.

He steps back, startled. “Why, is that where daddy held a knife to your throat when he made you blow him?”

It’s an escalation. He knows that. A dumbass one. In his only defense, he thought they were just fucking with each other. Legitimately. He didn’t know, he didn’t expect her to say… 

“No,” she says. She looks at him like he's the asshole. Arms at her sides curled into fists. “First guy made me blow him, my dad fixed it with his family buddies to fit him with cement shoes.”

Mick nods. “Good.” He had been legitimately starting to wonder.

She purses her lips. “Of course after that, he figured I was all broken in and must want to go again. So…” 

He stares at her. She glares back. “What? Leora,” he tries, no idea what to say, actually, next. 

She takes a kind of pity on him, like she gets that, thoroughly. Like she knows exactly what to say to pull back from the edge she’d just pushed them to. “You want to know what? I’ll tell you what. Bring it up again, and you’re going to have to hold on a knife on me if you want another round. And don’t touch me like that. That's what.” 

He holds out a hand. Defensive. Not close to her. “I won’t. I would never.”

She shrugs.

They sleep in different beds, her under all the blankets tucked to her neck and that still wet sweater on. Him in his boxers only. It's not a cold night and the air conditioner isn't working well.

In the morning he sneaks out and shoplifts her some clothes that fit. A long sleeved shirt, thin for the weather but opaque to the fingertips and black jeans. Underwear. He can't guess at bra size so he comes up with an adjustable sports bra. He'd had sisters… before. Before the fire. But he'd actually seen a lot more of them not buried under clothes.

She is sitting up in bed rubbing her eyes when he gets back and tosses his prize at her lap. She raises an eyebrow but smiles and slips into the bathroom and comes out clean.

They burn the old stuff in a back alley trash can.

**  
She makes them stop at a toys ‘r us, which is like a hell of squealing brats and shopping carts and buys some stupid doll thing and wrapping paper. Actually buys, she lifted some bitch’s purse in the parking lot to pay for it fair and square.

He ducks some suspicious looking assholes in uniform who seem to think he’s there to steal shit. Like he could be bothered. He ends up lifting a gameboy and a couple of games just because he wouldn’t want them to have wasted their time.

“Are we going to kid’s birthday party? What the fuck?”

“Well, I am. If you want to come with me, mind your mouth, asshole. You don’t swear around little kids.” 

“Jesus, really?” He says, but she just purses her lips like she thinks she's a kindergarten teacher.

**

She's got an actual destination in mind and turns out to be right back to Central City in a hotwired junker car.

“Are you kidding me?” He says. “We're going to get caught and sent right back.”

She shrugs. “You don't have to come.”

He growls softly. “I shouldn't.”

It's an ordinary looking house in a suburban cul de sac. Not in great shape and a few streets over the neighborhood really starts to go downhill.

Mick hangs back while she pulls a key out of a hiding spot.

There's this noise. A squeaky kid noise of sheer joy and then bounding feet and then a little girl launching herself at Snart, “You came back! You were gone a hundred years, Leo! A hundred infinity years.”

And Snart buries her face in the little girl's hair and hugs her back. “Sorry Lisa. I am so sorry about that.”

“But you came back. Dad said you wouldn't and they'd keep you in the hospital until he said it was ok but I thought you would.” The kid… Lisa grins. “You know today is my birthday. My four birthday.”

Leora grins back. “Of course I know. I wouldn't miss it.” Then she frowns, cautious. Glances back at Mick. “Dad around?”

The little girl shakes her head. “Just me.” A pause. “Leo, my tummy’s rumbling. Dad said not to tell him about that anymore.”

“Right. Well, we can’t have that on your birthday. How does your tummy feel about going out for ice cream?” 

So they do it. It's surreal as shit, sitting down with a little kid and this girl he'd screwed in the back of a truck before lighting it on fire. 

People stare at them a little too hard and for a sick second he wonders if they're thinking this is his girl. His kid. 

And he remembers the fire and that… no. No kids for him.

But it isn't completely horrible to pretend.

**

“Soo… is she, um, Lisa, really your sister or actually your kid?” he asks her later. They're hiding out in a rent by the hour motel in the shit part of town. 

Snart is sprawled on the bed with her boots still on reading a comic book about space ships or freeze rays or some shit. 

She looks up from the freeze rays and shakes her head. “She’s really my sister.” A pause. “I was talking to social services about getting a job, maybe getting emancipated so I could… but now...” She stares down at her book. Or her wrists. 

“They’re not going to let you take a kid if you’re fifteen and fresh out of the psych hospital,” he says. She glares at him. “Well, it’s true. Why’d you do it anyway?”

“I didn’t,” she spits. “I knew better.”

“So you miscalculated how deep you cut. It was still a dumbass thing to do.”

There's rage in her eyes. “You. Are. Not. Listening. To. Me. I didn’t do this. To. Myself.”

She rolls up her sleeve just high enough for him to see. The marks on her arms. Healing rope burn. And then he gets it. Like a punch to the face. “Was it your dad?”

Her face. The look on her face. She looks, for the first time he's seen her, like she’s about to cry. “He found the court paperwork I had stashed. Said I could fuck off if I wanted to, but he was keeping the fresh meat.”

She almost jumps out of her skin when he touches her. Off the bed and on her feet. She's not actually crying 

“It doesn't matter. So what, I can't be a welfare mom to Lisa. Whatever. I'll figure something else out,” she says.

“We can set your dad on fire?” He offers. “I've never set an actual person on fire on purpose. I could start?”

She smiles a little. “Maybe. Or I could freeze him. I could build a freeze ray.”

“I was serious.”

Her smile gets bigger. “So was I.”


End file.
